The Little Drummer Boy
by MovieBuffStarlet
Summary: How Angel became the street drummer we all know and love.


_A/N: I'm sorry for copying a story title of yours, Kassie. It just fit so well…_

Gasping for air, Angel didn't even care about the annoyed looks people shot him as he shoved his way past them…he didn't dare glance back.

Actually, Angel just wanted to keep running. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do, but he had to keep at it. What if his father was out looking for him? What if he sent his older siblings out to try and find him?

_I can't let him find me. If he catches me, he'll kill me…_

However, his body had different plans from his mind. His body was tired…it felt like he had been running forever. His heart was pounding (it was quite deafening), his throat was sore and his lungs ached because of the cold air seeping into them.

Angel allowed his pace to slow a little before finally coming to a stop at a street corner. This location was relatively quiet and away from any main action. Angel needed this…he needed to think.

The freshly fallen snow crunched under Angel's shoes as he turned around and walked a little ways back. Finally, he ducked into an alleyway.

Angel grew up in New York. He knew that alleyways were not the safest place to be in, especially at night. But he didn't care. Somehow, he felt safer here.

After straining his eyes in the darkness, Angel found a spot to sit in among garbage bags, trash cans, and boxes. After pushing some snow away with his feet, he carefully sat down…desperately trying to catch his breath.

Angel had no idea how long he'd been sitting there. His mind was spinning, trying to grasp the fact that he was now homeless….at barely 13 years old.

_I can't believe this…I can't fucking believe this…_

The boy felt his chest tighten in a panic. He could feel a fresh wave of tears coming.

_What's going to happen to me? What the fuck am I going to do?_

A quiet rustle from beside him interrupted his thoughts. Angel's eyes widened.

"Hey, kid…are you alright?"

Angel whipped his head around and found himself staring into the concerned face of a total stranger. Nothing seemed remarkable about this young man. He appeared to be in his late twenties…he was dirty as _hell_. Angel guessed that he had been living on the street for a while. Only his eyes stood out. These twinkling, kind blue eyes.

"Yeah. I'm…I'm fine." Angel stammered, startled. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here…"

"No, it's fine. I don't own the alleyway." The young man laughed softly. "What's your name?"

Angel paused here.

"Um…it's Angel. And yours?"

"That's not important." The man shook his head. "Are you sure you're okay, Angel? You look…upset."

Angel noticed that he was looking at the bruises on his neck. Feeling his face growing hot, Angel tugged up the collar of his jacket and turned away from him, staring at the ground.

"I'm _fine_!" He snapped, his voice hoarse. Actually, his neck ached…but Angel wasn't about to tell a complete stranger about how his Dad came at him with a knife….how his Dad attempted to strangle him…all because the boy had the strength to tell him he was gay.

He wouldn't understand. Plus, it was embarrassing.

Angel shifted a little, the right side of his rib cage aching from where his father had kicked him.

"I'm sorry. It's just…I can't go back home. I'm homeless." Still staring at the ground, Angel could hear his voice shaking. Even after hearing himself say the words, it was still hard to believe.

"Is there anything I can do?" The stranger asked him gently.

"Yeah. You can get me an aspirin. My head hurts." Angel tried to smile, but his whole face felt tight. He shivered slightly, noticing the bitter cold for the first time.

_Well, this is your home now. Get used to it._

In an effort to pull himself together, Angel leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

"My head hurts." Angel repeated miserably.

"There's always a homeless shelter, Angel." The man pointed out, trying to remain strong for him.

Angel didn't respond.

"The streets can be rough and dangerous. You'll have an easier time surviving if you use whatever talent you've got to get some money."

Angel did not look up…but he was listening.

"Can you do anything? Sing? Dance…?" The man questioned him.

"I can play the drums a little." Angel muttered, still not looking up.

"Well, then that's the key." Angel could hear the stranger tell him in an almost cheerful tone.

_What the fuck are you so happy about?? I'm fucking homeless!!_

"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for helping me out…" Angel sighed heavily, biting his bottom lip.

Angel was greeted with silence.

After a second or two, he raised his head and turned to look at the man.

The space beside him was now empty.

Angel blinked, very confused.

_I must be going crazy…_

He peered down the alleyway…no one was in sight. Angel turned his head to the left, looking out onto the street…no one leaving from that direction, either.

"Hello??" He called cautiously, as if to test his sanity.

A light snow had begun to fall from the black sky. Angel peered up at it, the snow collecting in his short, curly black hair and his eyelashes.

It was very pretty. In fact, it was almost soothing.

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Angel looked back down to see what it was.

A rather large, white, plastic pickle tub sitting upside down in the space where the man was. Two wooden drumsticks were resting in the snow beside it.

Angel stared for a moment before leaning over and grasping onto the drumsticks. Then, he dragged the pickle tub over until it was centered in front of him.

Across the street, Angel noticed a Christmas tree sculpture. He didn't remember seeing it before.

_Maybe I was just too upset to care…_

Slowly, a small smile graced Angel's delicate features. He could feel this sense of peace wash over him.

He didn't even know why, but Angel felt that everything would be okay. He felt calm.

Still grinning, Angel closed his eyes and lost himself in the rhythm he began pounding out on the pickle tub. The youth seemed to possess this grace and poise far beyond his years.

Angel did not even notice the coins and dollar bills some people tossed him as they passed by. He didn't care.

He wasn't really drumming for them, anyway. He was doing it for himself. It kept him warm in the harsh New York winter…

And it gave him hope.

THE END


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